


Long Time, No See (Dear God, Why Me?!)

by fckyeahgallavich



Series: Requests/Prompts [17]
Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Angry Mickey Milkovich, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Tension, Caleb gets called out, Chance Meetings, Communication, Confrontations, Ex and SO meet, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher Uses His Words, M/M, Protective Ian Gallagher, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Trevor gets called out, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:22:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fckyeahgallavich/pseuds/fckyeahgallavich
Summary: PROMPT: Hi, I'm not sure if you're still taking prompts or not (if not, no worries, just completely ignore this) but would you be able to write something where Mickey got released early from prison and got back with Ian but they end up running into both Caleb and Trevor at different points and his reaction to them? Maybe something with him finding out about Caleb cheating and Trevor manipulating Ian into bottoming?? Please and Thank-you :)
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Requests/Prompts [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/878244
Comments: 38
Kudos: 301





	1. Trevor

There are some experiences in life that no one truly deserves to endure. There are the obvious: violent, violating, discriminatory variety of experiences. But then there’s the casual “first world problem” type of bullshit that, even though they aren’t particularly harmful or damaging, still seem so downright cruel in the moment that anyone in the midst of these events is likely to, even if only in their headspace, stare up at the Heavens and scream out to a higher being they may or may not believe in, “WHY ME?!”

One of the most awkward experiences (and Ian would bet _money_ that a majority of the dating world would agree) is running into an ex with whom the break-up went poorly (double points if the ex wants you back or you want them back, triple if your current partner is with you).

In Ian's case, he truly thought that having Mickey with him was his only consolation for this humiliating and awkward encounter (or… maybe it actually _did_ make it worse?... Jury’s still out on which).

Ian was in the grocery store picking through bundles of fresh broccoli, minding his own business while Mickey went back to the milk section to pick up the second gallon they suddenly decided they needed, when a familiar voice rang out roughly six feet to his right.

“Ian?” The name’s owner turned toward the speaker and a block of lead dropped to the pit of his stomach. “I thought that was you, Red!” Trevor beamed his mega-wat smile.

“Wow! Uh, hi Trev — or…” Ian gaped, quickly adding the “or” on the back of the old nickname that, surely at this point, was no longer appropriate. Trevor quirked a brow at the awkward pronunciation of his name.

His old flame looked… well, good. His facial hair filled in for a full goatee reminding Ian of Tony Stark and a few new tattoos decorated his right bicep; the same carefree smile he’d worn when they’d met up at the club that first time adorned his face.

“Kinda surprised that you said anything,” Ian confessed with an awkward laugh and scratch to the back of the head, adjusting his hair only to rip his hand away realizing that the gesture probably made him look nervous for a different reason than he actually was. “I mean, you never really checked in after the arrest…” Ian added, fiddling with his wedding band to ease the tension in his stomach. “Kinda figured you were done with me, you know?” Trevor’s smile fell.

“You weren’t listening to me… I didn’t figure there was much point in me checking in and getting upset —” He cut himself off with a deep breath, almost sounding like a huff, holding his hands up, palms out, in a surrender gesture. “I just didn’t realize you were out and thought we could catch up since I saw you and recognized you.” He slapped that smile back on his face and his eyes trailed across Ian’s face, down to his chest, but quickly returned his attention to Ian’s face. Had he caught sight of the rings on his finger?

“Well, for starters I’m —”

“Christ, it must be WIC day or something!” Mickey’s voice erupted from Ian’s left. He and Trevor turned to face the darker haired man as he slung the second milk jug in the shopping cart. “You wouldn’t believe how much was taken just in the twenty minutes since we were there!” Mickey continued, nonchalantly adding a box of chocolate cereal to the cart as well… Followed by another box of Fruity Pebbles (name brand because according to Mickey this was the _one_ cereal that generic just couldn’t touch).

“Maybe there’s a fuck-ton of teachers celebrating the end of the school year with white Russians?” Trevor laughed. Mickey’s brows furrowed at the random suggestion coming from who, to him, was a complete stranger.

“Uh… Yeah, maybe…” Mickey replied a little cagily, clearly confused by this stranger’s comfort with other strangers.

“Perfect timing,” Ian announced before Mickey could try turning their cart around to leave. “I was just about to say: I’m married now!” Trevor’s thick brows rose and Mickey’s face flashed to Ian’s in confusion. 

“Oh! Damn. You sure move fast, Red, that much hasn’t changed,” he chuckled. Mickey’s brow arched.

“Fast? Only took the fucker damn near ten _years_ to commit! An’ who the fuck’re you?” Mickey asked a little combatively. Ian placed his hand on Mickey’s shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze.

“Mick, this is Trevor. Trev —”

“ _This_ is Mickey?” Trevor blurted. Mickey damn near seethed at the tone — a type of shock that suggested Ian had lost his mind. “Escaped from prison, took you with him to _Mexico_ Mickey?” Trevor clarified further.

“In the flesh,” Mickey replied, reigning in his irritation now that he at least had _some_ information. Trevor shook his head, mega-wat smile dimmed by… something Ian couldn’t place. Disappointment? Disgust?

“At least you didn’t cheat on me in vain, I guess,” Trevor breathed lightly. Though the delivery was lighthearted, the tone was off… There was some underlying resentment still there… Ian rolled his eyes and clamped his hand harder on Mickey’s shoulder, but Mickey was already determined to speak his mind.

“Look, it ain’t like I’m some fuckin’ home-wrecker,” Mickey declared, doing an impressive job at controlling the anger in his tone. “I never forced him to do shit. If he didn’t wanna come, he didn’t have to.” Trevor looked less than pleased at Mickey’s point. “And uh…” he paced forward, and from the slight widening of Trevor’s eyes, he could tell he was intimidated — He couldn’t blame him… The stories Ian had shared of Mickey hadn’t exactly been his greatest hits, Ian realized with a regretful pang in his chest. “Last I’d heard,” Mickey peeked a look in Ian’s direction, “You dipped out pretty suddenly when shit hit the fan.”

Trevor didn’t lower his gaze though it was clear from the set of his shoulders that Mickey’s point was received.

“I was actually trying to apologize for that when you — ” he cut himself off, apparently rethinking his next word choice. “Returned,” he finished. Ian arched a disbelieving and curious brow. _The shit he had!_ Ian chuckled internally. But also there was a bit of curiosity as to what his original word choice was going to be…

Mickey’s face, upon examining Ian’s, reflected Ian’s skepticism.

“Okay, then. Don't let me stop you,” Mickey took a step back.

Trevor glanced awkwardly between the two, eyes and the slightly ajar set of his mouth communicating some sort of disbelief or amazement.

“Don’t recall you ever needing _me_ to do the talking for you before, Red,” Trevor taunted. Mickey’s brows arched but he kept himself silent, knowing that him speaking up would only further Trevor’s _supposed_ point.

“I don’t need anyone to speak for me,” Ian replied mildly, patiently. Trevor and Mickey continued to glare each other down and Ian sighed aggravatedly. “But, you know… if you’re gonna be a douchebag when you first meet him then you can’t really be surprised when he’s an asshole back,” Ian pointed out. Trevor’s eyes returned to Ian at that, mouth agape in indignation. 

“ _I’m_ the douchebag?” Trevor laughed. “You _blame_ me for being a little surprised when the guy you _cheated on me with,_ the guy who — last I’d heard — was a fuckin _fugitive_ , you turn out to be _married_ to? _”_ He demanded with derisive laughter in his tone. Ian rolled his eyes.

“ _You_ decided _you_ didn’t want anything to do with _me,_ remember?” Ian snipped. “Why the fuck do you give a shit that I married him? It’s not like _you_ ever had any intentions to!” Ian laughed with sarcasm equal to Trevor’s. Trevor huffed and no one spoke for a long moment.

“You’re right,” Trevor finally allowed, sniffing back his irritation and nodding to no one in particular. “I guess it’s weird of me to give a shit about someone who threw me away for someone that _hits_ him, but you know —”

“Fuckin _excuse you_?!” Mickey demanded, charging forward and physically stopped only by the arm that Ian threw out.

“You don’t know _shit_ about us, Trevor,” Ian hissed at the same time as Mickey’s outburst. He knew that Mickey wasn’t going to physically do anything to Trevor but it didn’t mean that Mickey wouldn’t get in his face to make a point.

Trevor held up his hands.

“Look, I didn’t want to cause any of this bullshit, I really just wanted to say hi and catch up and… well, I guess we did in your round-about fucked-up Gallagher way… Or wait, is it… what was your last name again?”

“Just go, Trevor,” Ian sighed. Mickey’s brows were fixed as high as they could possibly rest on his forehead and his fingertips flew against each other as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. Ian’s heart fucking _cracked_ in his chest and guilt weighed heavily on his shoulders. This was _all_ his fault… He’d completely misrepresented what it was he and Mickey had put each other through and now it’d bit him in the ass and hurt Mickey. As though his husband didn’t already feel guilt for all the shit they’d put each other through, now here was a complete stranger rubbing it in his face to make a cheap-shot point.

“Yeah, have a nice life, Ian,” Trevor ground out. “Knew you’d always stick to the shit that’s bad for you. Seems like it’s in your nature. _That’s_ why I never checked in on you… I knew you’d just keep doing the same fucked-up shit.” 

“And I knew you’d never outgrow that guilt-trip, manipulative bullshit that _you’re_ so fuckin good at. Remember how that’s the only way you got me into the sack?” Ian spit back before he could stop himself. His own eyes burst as wide as saucers in his face, so fast and hard he knew he’d have a headache later.

“He did _what?!”_ Mickey demanded, whipping his head around to meet eyes with Ian who was doing his very best to not look at anyone.

“Nothing, Mick,” Ian sighed.

“That don’t fuckin' _sound_ like nothin’,” Mickey flashed his attention back to Trevor. “The fuck did you do?” Mickey snapped.

“Um, nothing… this is news to _me_!” Trevor declared, turning his attention to Ian.

“I shouldn’t have said anything, Mick. Let’s go, all this shit’s gonna be spoiled by the time we get it home —”

“Ian,” Mickey’s voice was hard, his eyes harder. A strong, tattooed hand slammed on the edge of the cart as Ian tried to push it between Trevor and the decorative barrel of potatoes. Ian pleaded with Mickey to please, _please_ let them drop it here.

“I really have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about, Red,” Trevor interjected. Ian sighed and pinched at the corners of his eyes with his thumb and middle finger as he tried to figure a way out of this. This whole situation was that aforementioned “WHY ME?!” moment.

So, maybe it wasn’t a good thing that Mickey was here… Or maybe it didn’t really matter one way or the other. Ian didn’t know and Ian truthfully probably shouldn’t have cared. Trevor was likely to say something snide about their marriage whether Mickey was there or not and the bottom line was his marriage was none of Trevor’s business — not remotely his place to object to considering the fucked-up progression of their _own_ relationship.

“Nothing. Just… C’mon, Mick, let’s go.”

“No!” Trevor reached out and cupped Ian’s shoulder. “What the fuck are you talking about? I never manipulated you into anything — ”

At that, Ian actually did laugh — briefly, darkly.

“That ‘sex positivity’ bullshit? Refusing friendship if I didn’t sleep with you? Convincing me to go to Bear Back when I was upset about my mom?” Ian listed aggressively. Trevor’s brows furrowed and Ian knew that he didn’t get it, which was the exact reason he didn’t want to say anything in the first place. “I’m not explaining it to you. All I’m gonna say is you were no fuckin' better than those trolls at the club who treated me like all I was good for was my body." A wave of... he didn't even know what... Self-loathing? Insecurity? Anxiety? washed over him. "You think you're better than Mickey because you've never been in trouble with the law, but at least Mickey never had to guilt me into being with him and I never had to do anything I wasn’t comfortable with for him to _want_ to be with me.” He could feel Mickey’s gaze on the side of his face but Ian didn’t turn his own eyes to Mickey. He couldn’t bear the confusion, concern, and possibly even some pity. "Mickey is brave and selfless and _definitely_ never let me feel like my worth was tied up in a fuck."

Trevor had the decency to look embarrassed, ashamed even.

"Can't really say it was nice seein' you, Trev, but... Nice seein' you," Ian muttered, not really knowing what else there was to say.

"Hey, wait a minute —" Trevor cried as Ian once again tried to push their shopping cart through. Ian stopped, closed his eyes and breathed deep, and turned to face his ex. "I... Those things I did... There was a lot more to it than that, I —"

" _You,_ " Mickey interrupted, placing his left hand against Trevor's chest to stop his advancement forward into Ian's space. "Can go the fuck on and be fuckin' _grateful_ I'm on parole. And hope I don't see you again." He seethed his words, practically hissing with bottled-up rage. Trevor looked down to his chest and Ian's gaze followed suit, narrowing in on the two rings stacked on Mickey's ring finger which he had placed only a few months ago for the first time.

This was why Ian couldn't be sure how he felt about Mickey being there with him when he ran into Trevor for the first time since their freedom. Would things have really gone any smoother? Maybe. But was anything that was said... wrong? No. It was strange though: Ian had never consciously compared Mickey to his other relationships after they were reunited. All of the comparisons he'd developed while Mickey was away were all situations where Ian was trying to convince himself he didn't need Mickey in his life or that Mickey wasn't "the one." It was still wrong (and the twisting, see-sawing waves of heavy guilt in his gut told him as much) to play the comparison game and to talk shit about his and Mickey's relationship to sound worse than it was... Especially when his other relationships had been no fuckin' better, despite what either guy might argue.

Mickey was completely silent through check-out, but it wasn't an awkward or angry silence. It was a silence that indicated deep thought before a long, necessary conversation.

Despite the silence, Ian knew that Mickey wasn't angry with him. He knew because of how Mickey had thread his fingers between Ian's on the El and held his hand through the entire train ride, ugly looks from other commuters be damned; but he also knew from the looks that Mickey would sneak — these soft looks that said "I'm just checking in because what you said back there probably brought up some shit that no one wants to remember and as much as it freaked me out, I'm sure it freaked you out even worse." But what Mickey didn't realize was that Ian had already made his peace with the dehumanizing, objectified ways in which he was treated throughout his youth and even young adult years. It wasn't okay and some days he still had insecurities about his self-worth beyond his skills in the bedroom or the attractiveness of his face and body, but ultimately he knew that he was married to someone who truly valued _who_ he is and that made the rest easier to live with now. What was really sticking with Ian right now was guilt. Coming face to face with, and remembering the ways he used to describe Mickey to people who didn't know him was... So many degrees of not okay. And if Ian was being totally honest, he had forgotten all about it because he never thought he'd ever live to face those things he said.

Why would he, right? He'd washed his hands of Caleb and Trevor and Caleb and Trevor had washed their hands of him (as far as he knew). He was married to Mickey now and their relationship was stronger and more open and honest than ever before. So... maybe that's why this was hitting him so hard? Because even though he hadn't _lied_ per se, he also hadn't told the whole truth by hoping and praying he'd never have to own up to the disgusting ways he'd talked about Mickey behind his back with the only consolation being that it was unlikely they'd ever meet him.

They put away the groceries in silence, both seeming to ignore whatever rant Debbie was on about (no "thank you" for picking up the groceries from her shopping list as well as theirs, by the way), and didn't even have to say anything to know that they needed to talk roughly twenty minutes later. Ian, after the groceries were put away, had leaned back against the sink, his fingertips drumming against the counter as he thought about nothing in particular... Mostly just replaying the scene in his head. Mickey was nursing a beer at the island and working to not keep stealing glances at his partner. But eventually there does come a time when the silence is unbearable and something must be said. So Ian broke free from the sink and climbed the stairs up to their bedroom, knowing without even needing to hear the following footsteps or creaks of the steps behind him that Mickey was following.

Mickey slid the door to their bedroom closed behind him and huffed out a heavy breath. Ian nodded in agreement and they stared at each other for a long moment.

"I'm sorry," Ian finally croaked, voice cracking with disuse in the past hour or so. Mickey's brows furrowed.

"For what?" He asked, sounding genuinely puzzled. Ian's eyes warmed over as shame crowded his stomach and weighed on his shoulders.

"I... I didn't exactly share... the happiest or nicest things about you while we were apart and..." He huffed out another breath. "And it wasn't fair and I fuckin'... Fuckin' _hate_ the way that I made you sound to people because I was just trying to get over you and for some reason I thought I had to turn you into some sort of monster to do it and..." Ian collapsed on the bed and ran his fingers through his hair, nausea tore at his stomach as he recalled the way he described Mickey's forceful nature to each of his ex boyfriends, the horrified looks on their faces when they made assumptions and the way he'd pushed away the guilt back when he didn't correct them for how _wrong_ their assumptions were. 

When Ian looked back up to where Mickey remained standing frozen at the door to their room, Mickey was biting his bottom lip. For the first time in... wow, Ian didn't know how long... He couldn't read his husband.

"Mick?" He choked out, forcing himself to search for eye contact. Mickey finally looked at him, making that eye contact and released his bottom lip.

"I wasn't even thinking about that..." he admitted, stepping over to Ian's seated form, standing between Ian's spread knees and running a tender hand through Ian's hair. The softness was bizarre considering what Ian felt like he deserved right now. "Yeah... That..." Mickey huffed, brows raising a bit as he visibly struggled with words to describe his feeling. "That's pretty, uh... I don't even know what..." He shook his head and Ian rest his forehead against Mickey's tee-shirt covered stomach, nose bumping against the buckle of his belt. Mickey lowered his hand to Ian's shoulder, placing the other hand on the other shoulder as well, accepting Ian's touch. "But that don't fuckin' matter to me right now... He forced you to have sex with him?" Ian grimaced at the word "forced."

"I wouldn't go that far..." Ian mumbled. "I wanted it, I guess. It just took negotiation and compromise and... Well, like I said the way he wouldn't let us be friends unless I slept with him was pretty fucked up. But I wouldn't say he forced me or anything..." Mickey sniffed irritably.

"Sounds like force to me," he growled. Ian smirked and raised his hands to rest on his husband's waist, thumbs dipping into the top of his jeans.

"It wasn't, I promise." His smile fell as he reminded himself of what was currently _his_ take-away from that conversation with his ex. "I'm so sorry..." He didn't want to look at his face, but he knew he should. He pulled back from his husband's arms and looked up into Mickey's face which was grave, disappointed maybe.

"I guess I'm not surprised that you told your boyfriends about me," Mickey murmured. Ian's heart sank at the hurt in his voice. "You know how much I wish I could take all of those fights back, right?" Ian shot up to standing, Mickey barely stepping back in time to avoid bashing their heads together. Ian took Mickey's face in his hands and bore his eyes down into Mickey's.

"I know how much it fucks you up remembering that bullshit we put each other through. I promise, I _swear_ I don't hold it against you. We were dumb kids and I was just... Hurting and angry and missing you but unable to have you and thinking I didn't deserve you and so I focused on that shit to convince myself that it was you who didn't deserve me, but..." He tipped his forehead to rest against Mickey's and released an emotionally charged breath, his rant robbing him of air. "It was a load of shit, Mick. And none of it is a good excuse and I'm just so, so sorry that I talked about you like that." Mickey shrugged in Ian's hold, his forehead rubbing slightly against his as he completed the gesture. He didn't know how he knew, but he knew that Mickey was biting his lip, the action he does when he doesn't know how to handle what's being thrown at him.

"I'm... I'm tellin' ya, it ain't even what you told him or anyone else. I can't fuckin accept that someone treated you like that." Mickey insisted. Ian blew out a humorless laugh.

"Figures we wouldn't give a shit about what someone says or does to _us_ but what is said about or done to the _other._ " Mickey shrugged again and placed his hands on Ian's waist.

"I know I've done fucked up shit. Pretending I didn't won't make it go away."

"Well, me letting people think the worst about the worst times in our relationship won't change that I instigated most of our fights," Ian reasoned. Mickey huffed a sigh. He sounded impatient but also remorseful and Ian followed suit, feeling just a little of the pressure ease from his core and relieving just the slightest bit of weight from his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he murmured again. Mickey pulled back so they could look directly at each other.

"For our fights," Ian continued, "for allowing others to assume the worst about you, for all the times I didn't stick up for you when I should've... I'm just so _so_ sorry." A small smile perked at the corner of Mickey's mouth.

"Me too," Mickey replied. Though Ian knew he was talking about the first part only, he coudln't help but wonder if Mickey had also said some things about Ian behind his back that he regretted. Not that he wouldn't have deserve it if he did... It didn't matter anyway. Mickey's always shown his dedication to Ian and love for Ian. He didn't really give a shit now, after months of marriage already under their belts, if Mickey had said some mean things about Ian behind his back. Mickey's face fell as another thought occurred to him and his eyes slid shut again. 

"What?" Ian asked through a breath.

"It fuckin'..." he groaned in irritation before continuing. "It fuckin' _kills_ me knowin' that you were treated like that again. That he's probably part of the reason you were freakin' out so bad thinking about us gettin' married. You literally asked me about what I thought you had to offer me as an excuse for not wantin' to, so... Was that because o' him? Was that always there? It just... Hearin' that bullshit made me want to..." He grimaced and fell silent. A small smile lifted the left side of Ian's mouth and he ran a soft caress over the apple of Mickey's cheek, feeling grateful beyond words that he has a husband who gives a shit _this_ much.

"I'm okay," Ian promised. "Yeah, those kinds of thoughts come back to me some days but it's nowhere near what it used to be." Mickey looked back into Ian's eyes and reached up to stroke Ian's cheek, mirroring Ian's gesture. Ian lowered his face so their lips could brush and Mickey extended his neck forward to fully connect their lips in a sweet yet strong kiss. When they pulled back Ian's stomach was full of fluttering butterflies and he grimaced. "I still don't really know what it is I give you but... I guess if you're willing to stay and you're happy with who we are, then who am I to question that?" Mickey sighed and arched a brow, giving him a wry look that said "really?"

"Sorry," Ian laughed, practically feeling the annoyance at him once again repeating the sentiment of aforementioned insecurities. Mickey shook his head, smiling lightly, and wrapped his arms around Ian's waist, pulling him in. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey's shoulders, pulling him even closer. 

Ian told Mickey the full story of his experiences with Trevor and though Mickey was a little hurt by the things Ian said, they both agreed that this was all behind them now and they were both doing their best to be better for themselves and for each other. He even confessed to the shit he said to Caleb which... Yeah, Mickey wasn't quite so forgiving.

He just prayed that Mickey would never have to find out the most ugly part about his relationship with said fireman...

But as has already been mentioned, the Universe decided she wasn't done with Ian Gallagher just yet.


	2. Caleb

Evidently, the Universe decided there were enough karma points stacked against this particular Gallagher that once wasn’t enough — so naturally, he had to get hit twice by  _ the  _ single-handedly most embarrassing and awkward experience that could ever happen. (If only embarrassment were lightning so it couldn't strike the same person twice, right?)

Yeah, Ian knows that he’s done some shitty things to his now-husband in their past. He’s acknowledged it, he’s apologized for it, and he’s practically vowed to spend the rest of his life proving to his husband how much he loves him and how much he values his spot in his life.

Again… Apparently the Universe decided this was not sufficient and that Ian Gallagher had gotten off too easy.

Roughly two months after the run-in with Trevor, the married couple started feeling  _ rough.  _ Though Mickey was certainly no stranger to the random coughing fit and sniffle thanks to his pack-a-day lungs, he couldn’t help but feel  _ off  _ about it this time. Ian also had a headache and shortness of breath that wouldn’t go away. 

Ian, of course, was the first to suggest they get tested for COVID, but Mickey gave no resistance to the suggestion.

They made back-to-back appointments at a doctor’s office in Ian’s network (marriage perk no one reminded them of: sweet deal with sharing Ian’s decent as fuck health insurance). 

The test was simply one of the least comfortable experiences of either of their lives, but with little Freddie and Franny both at home, neither of them were willing to take chances.

Ian finished quickly and by the time he returned to the waiting room, Mickey was gone, presumably to take his own test. As he was ready to sit to wait for his husband, he recognized a face he definitely did  _ not  _ want to see.

He turned away, hoping to avoid the man’s notice, but, of course, no such luck would be afforded to him.

“I— Ian?” The firefighter’s smooth voice coughed in excited laughter. Ian grimaced behind his mask. He thought briefly about denying that it was him, but knew his ex was unlikely to buy it. Instead he pointed to his own mask to remind Caleb to return his to his face.

“Oh, right,” he mumbled, looping the straps over his ears, covering his face. “So you here for COVID testing?” Caleb guessed.

“Yeah,” Ian confirmed. “Started feelin’ weird earlier this week so I thought I may as well.”

“You still an EMT? I heard … Well…” Ian’s head sank forward with an irritable breath.

“Sort of… It’s a company no one’s ever heard of and it was primarily a scam at first, but I’m hoping after probation is up maybe I’ll get to do the real thing again.”

Caleb nodded solemnly.

“Who knows. Maybe, you know?” Ian shrugged back.

“Yeah, maybe.” He smiled awkwardly behind the mask though obviously no one would see it because it most certainly did not reach his eyes the way a genuine smile did. He didn’t know whether to beg for Mickey to hurry up so they could leave or for him to take his time so they wouldn’t have a repeat of Trevor-gate.

“I’m actually really glad to see you,” Caleb murmured — his flirty voice making his tone sound a little husky.  _ Aw, Christ, _ Ian groaned internally. “I really haven’t been able to stop thinking about you… I’ve missed you.” Ian audibly groaned this time.

“Look… Caleb, I — ”

“I think we were good together. I gave you ambition, you know? And you… God, I haven’t  _ met  _ a good time like what we had since our last date.” Ian groaned again, running a hand through his hair and carefully adjusting his mask.

“Y’know, I thought I gave a pretty solid ‘fuck off’ vibe when I caught you cheating.” He couldn’t see Caleb’s face… but he knew that he had pursed his lips.

“Okay, I get it… Women are a hard limit for you — ”

“Caleb,  _ you _ — ”

“Jesus  _ Christ _ ,” Mickey’s voice sniffed to Ian’s right. He turned to see his husband coming out of the same door he had, hand swiping at the side of his nose with aggravation.

“You’re not supposed to be touching your face, Mick,” Ian reminded.

“It’s  _ my  _ fucking face, I’ll touch it if I goddamned well want to!” He snarked. Ian couldn’t help but smile under his mask. His husband… the most endearing asshole he’d ever met. “Friend o’ yours?” Mickey asked, looking up at Caleb.

“And  _ you  _ are?” Caleb demanded back. Ian’s eyes burst wide in his head. Well…  _ that  _ was ballsy. Usually Caleb was patient and kind with strangers — people in general, really.

“Who’s askin’?” Mickey retorted. Ian, to the best of his ability, stepped between the two sets of puffed out chests.

“Alright, alright. Caleb, this is my husband, Mickey. Mick, meet Caleb…" Mickey's brow arched to show Ian he had no idea who the fuck he was talking about. "The one who said sleeping with a woman wasn’t cheating…. Among other things.” Ian gulped at the last bit. Ian and Mickey had fought the same fight about women and cheating, Mickey, having slept with many women when they were kids was on Caleb’s side of the argument, though obviously that was officially a non-issue now that Mickey determined he’s 100% gay. But the ‘other things’ might be what gets him.

“You  _ married  _ him?” Caleb gaped as Mickey narrowed his eyes and slowly nodded.

“Yeah… So  _ you’re _ the guy that paraded Ian around like a show pony for his homophobic fuck parents…” 

Again, Ian couldn’t see his face, but he was pretty sure Caleb bit his lip, eyes closing as he lowered his head, supposedly either in shame or to collect his patience.

“You know… it’s been years since all that and — ”

“So had the fighting Ian and me’d done but that didn’t stop you from tellin’ him I fuckin’ abused him.”

“Y’know… Maybe here isn’t — ” Ian sheepishly interjected.

“Hitting your partner, insulting them… That’s ever  _ not  _ abuse?” Caleb snorted.

“We were kids. We know better now — ”

“That’s not an excuse!” Caleb practically shouted.

“Guys — ” Ian tried again, louder.

“Oh, because treating your boyfriend like fuckin Seabiscuit to piss off your parents ain't fucked?”

“ _ Mick!”  _ Ian snapped.

"It sure isn't hitting him!" Caleb snapped back. Ian rolled his eyes just as a pair of nurses made their way over to the group.

" _Gentlemen!"_ The redheaded nurse screamed. The way she exploded, she must have been trying to get their attention for a while. All three men's heads flashed to the pair. 

"Do we have to call the cops?" The other nurse asked.

Mickey flashed his attention to his husband.

"No, ma'am, we're leaving," Ian assured, taking his husband's arm in hand. He didn't have to pull, Mickey in fact charged right through the front door, digging in his back pocket for the cigarettes that he'd left in Kev's truck. Coming up empty on cigarettes, Mickey turned back to face Ian and Caleb, standing three feet to the left of the front door.

"You know," Ian murmured to his ex softly. "There's something I haven't told him about us... Something that I'm _sure_ you don't want him to know. Because if he heard... The cops would have to be called, I can guarantee you that." Caleb's brows furrowed for a brief moment before realization dawned and he rolled his eyes.

"Ian, it's not like it was ever unprotected. Sure, I shoulda told you first, but you went and got tested after and you're fine. No harm, no foul." Beneath his mask, Ian bit his lip and sucked in a deep breath through his nose.

"Keep telling yourself that," Ian gritted. "Hopefully you've been more responsible since then, and actually give your partners the _choice_ to take the risk."

"There is virtually no risk," Caleb insisted.

" _Virtually_ isn't zero," Ian argued firmly.

"Risk?" Mickey asked from behind Ian. The redhead turned to face his husband and his stomach instantly turned to wobbly pudding.

“Not. Here.” Ian's words were firm but soft. Mickey’s eyes narrowed.

"There's still something you didn't tell me, isn't there?" It was a demand, but the tone was still soft, almost suspicious. Ian's stomach swam with nervousness. He'd _seriously_ prayed he'd never have to tell him... It brought back all sorts of memories of the questionable shit he'd done for sex in the past. Not to say that Mickey hadn't also done his fair share, and Mickey'd owned up to that... But the fact that Ian held this detail back... 

"I'm HIV positive," Caleb confirmed without hesitation. "I'm not ashamed of it and I'm responsible with it. I take care of myself and I take care of my partners. I just didn't tell him -"

Mickey held a hand up and Caleb, surprisingly, stopped. Ian couldn't see Mickey's face... and yet he could. It was frozen in a blurred mask of shock, disbelief, and fury.

"You... didn't -"

"I told him immediately after, and that was when he told me about his bipolar too. We each held secrets," he shrugged... As though those two things were in any way comparable...

"You... fucked someone... before telling them you have the virus?" Mickey checked again, brows raising and tensing ever so slightly. Ian slid towards his husband, ready to pull him back if need be. "And _you_ didn't fucking _tell me?_ We'd _just_ had this fucking conversation, Ian!" Mickey cried. Ian gulped.

"I'm negative and I... never expected _this_ would happen," Ian sighed. The tendons in Mickey's neck tensed before his adam's apple shifted to show a strong gulp. Mickey nodded slowly, processing.

"I take care of myself, I knew there was no chance of Ian being at risk or I wouldn't -"

" _You_ shut your fuckin yap!" Mickey roared. Caleb laughed sardonically and shook his head, looking away from Mickey while doing so. Mickey was absolutely _shaking_ with fury, the likes of which Ian hadn't seen since Terry burned down their original wedding venue.

"I don't need your fuckin' judgements, man. I take care of myself, the rest is none of your business," Caleb challenged.

"You fucked _my husband_ before telling him your fuckin' status, that is 100% my _fucking business!"_ Mickey gritted out. He turned to look at Ian who pleaded with his eyes for Mickey to just let them go. "And you lied to me," he added with so much disappointment that Ian's heart cracked in his chest with self-loathing. Mickey toyed with the underside of his eye, just below the seam of his mask, with the pad of his index finger, clearly fighting with some strong emotions.

"I'm gonna go before I end up goin' back to prison." He turned to Ian. "You wanna chum up with a guy who lied to you too and made you like Secretariat, you be my fuckin' guest. I'm goin' home."

"Mick-" Ian called, but Mickey had already turned on his heel to climb into Kev's truck.

"Some pick you made, there," Caleb wise-cracked.

"Shut the _fuck_ up!" Ian demanded, whirling on Caleb. "You can take _your_ judgements and shove 'em up your ass. There's a reason Mickey's my husband and you're not. I may not always like what he has to say or what he does, but he's fuckin' honest about it. And that's a fuck-ton more than you can say for yourself."

Caleb may have called after him, or he may have not; he didn't hear. He climbed into the cab just as Mickey started the ignition. The silence between them following the thud of Ian slamming his door closed was deafening, leaving only room for the idle of Kev's engine. Mickey had already torn off his mask, hanging it over the rearview, and was fiddling with his lighter for a cigarette dangling between his lips. Ian simply buckled his seatbelt and sat in that silence, knowing it was the bare minimum of what he deserved.

Mickey didn't say a single word as he peeled out of the parking lot to their doctor's office; he simply smoked and focused on the road. After ten minutes of tense silence,  Ian took Mickey’s hand in his to test just how angry Mickey was with him. When Mickey didn’t jerk away or try to stop the touch, Ian knew that while he was certainly, and with great reason, in the dog house, it wasn't beyond repair. 

By the time they pulled up to the Balls' house, the tension had settled by a fraction. Mickey had sucked down three whole cigarettes and Ian had been able to settle into his seat, relaxing the muscles in his back to prepare himself for what was to come.

“Any other exes you got for us to run into?” Mickey snarked, though there was no heat in it. Ian didn’t laugh.

“Fortunately no,” he replied.

“Charming people you chose, Gallagher. I’m starting to see a pattern.” Ian’s eyes burst open.

“What the fuck does  _ that  _ mean?” Mickey shrugged.

“You like assholes,” he answered simply as he twisted the key in the ignition to silence the truck. Ian had to think about that for a second, and laughter slowly creeped in as he realized Mickey was right.

“Look who’s talking; have you ever slept with a non-redhead or strawberry blonde?” Mickey looked aghast.

“Of  _ course  _ I have!” Ian’s brows furrowed until realization dawned on him.

“In the US, smartass.” Mickey smiled wide, sticking his tongue out at him playfully.

“Still yes. Can’t be too choosey in the joint, though I got lucky most of the time.” Ian shook his head, a slight, sarcastic smile on his face.

The following silence was awkward rather than tense, and Ian suddenly didn't know which way was up or down with his husband.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you... What I'd told you was bad enough in my eye... No need to say all _that_ when what I'd already told you was rough on its own."

"You told me that was it. The full story," Mickey choked out. "You _lied_ to me." Ian nodded solemnly and sucked his lips into his mouth, biting at them hard. He could give the bullshit "I didn't lie, I just didn't give every detail" line... But, it was bullshit and Mickey would never accept it. Ian wouldn't if the situation were reversed.

"Anything else for me to know?" Mickey asked as though he was afraid to do so. Ian sat back in his seat, eyes trained on the beige, cloth roof of the truck, thinking. Genuinely wracking his brain to come up with anything he'd left out in their numerous talks about the shit they'd missed from each other's lives.

"I don't think so," Ian finally answered, turning to a suspicious, unamused Mickey. "I mean it," Ian promised. Mickey's look remained hard, though the suspicion left. He was still angry, but not beyond redemption. "If I think of anything, I'll tell you, okay?" Mickey nodded, though again his expression did not shift.

They didn’t talk about their bump-in with Caleb after that. Well, not alone. Of course Ian told Lip about it and that jump started a huge conversation among all Gallaghers with varied responses like “I fuckin knew he was an asshole!” and “Aww, he seemed so nice, though!” Whenever it did get brought up Mickey got a little prickly. And every time he tried to talk to Mickey about it, he'd just insist that the issue was over, dealt with, finished. And even though it sometimes tightened Ian's stomach to realize that they'd never actually talked this one out, that there may always be a piece of Mickey that bristled at the thought of this event, he knew that Mickey simply did not want to talk about it, and so didn't push.

But Ian kept his promise to never keep anything from Mickey again. And Mickey always told him everything going on in his life as well. It was a little disconcerting that these events were what ultimately helped Ian and Mickey with their communication as a couple, and helped them to deal with some of the bullshit they'd dealt with in the past... but being open with each other was the best policy and was the true test of their devotion to each other and patience with each other.

So, on that note... let's just say that the day Ian recalled the woman he'd experimented with, and, as promised, told Mickey about it, was an interesting one.

**Author's Note:**

> This really was intended to be a one-shot but I'm terrified of the inbox message disappearing on Tumblr so I'm posting what I have now in the form of a first chapter to ensure I can show Anon their prompt :)  
> I am working on completing my MA right now so it may take some time before I update but I'm planning on finishing this up with Caleb (and if anyone wants more scenarios/things or people from the show confronted, I'm more than happy to accept those ideas as well!)


End file.
